


Brood Your Heavy Hours

by wigglebox



Series: Ineffable Husbands Week [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Self-Reflection, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 08:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20503748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wigglebox/pseuds/wigglebox
Summary: Overnight musings and a demon gone soft





	Brood Your Heavy Hours

Sleep was a very human thing to do. 

They decided, going forward with this new part of their life, to develop somewhat of a routine instead of getting drunk every night and staring off into space. That was easier to do when you live alone, not when you’re with someone else. 

Sleep was a very human thing to do, and it was a process they had to learn. By nature, they didn’t sleep. There was never a reason for them to sleep. Crowley did for half a century, but it wasn’t a habit, he was just bored. 

But now, they got ready for bed around midnight and slept until roughly eight in the morning. They didn’t set the alarm, it was just when they knew they should be up. They slept longer on weekends, trying to follow a typical human’s schedule. 

Crowley had no problem adjusting, but Aziraphale struggled at first, waking up constantly, unable to bring the cosmic energy back down to levels suitable for rest. Crowley eventually found several different ways to help Aziraphale adjust and after a few months, succeeded. 

The best nights, however, was when Crowley woke in the strange overnight hours where time and space seemed to stand still and hover just over the cliff of sunrise.

There were no reasons why Crowley woke up at those times, and it wasn’t frequent, so when he did, he took in as much as he could. 

People looked differently when they slept. Crowley heard the expression “Sleep like the dead” often, but he always wanted to disagree. He’s seen the dead, he was surrounded by the dead, the dead was no stranger to him, and they didn’t look as peaceful as a person sleeping. The dead had no life at all, no promise of waking up slowly alongside the sun, opening their eyes in a flutter to reveal the world around them. 

Those who slept, even those with the cosmos running through them and forces that humans couldn’t understand, dreamed. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but all the times were otherworlds they traveled to. The dead never come back. 

It only took two instances of waking up for Crowley to memorize what Aziraphale’s face looked like when he was entirely at ease. Crowley himself was once an angel, but he knew he never looked like this. Aziraphale was yes, still an angel despite having been cut off from Heaven for the time being, but it shocked Crowley just how angelic he could look. 

They didn’t age, stress with wear and tear didn’t happen with them, but somehow, when Aziraphale slept, he looked the textbook definition of relaxed and delicate. No matter the amount of darkness in the room, Aziraphale seemed to always have a small, soft glow around him, easing any harsh shadows the night may have caused. Any trace of emotion other than peace was erased from his face, and Crowley found he could watch for about an hour before he too allowed himself to slip back under. He dreamed of that face. 

The thunder woke Crowley up this night, and he rolled over to see some rain hammering the window. It was three a.m. again, and the drops on the windowpane held the light from the streetlamps outside -- nosy drops that wanted to see what was happening inside. The noise was calming, another human thing Crowley succumbed to. He loved the sound of rain. 

He turned back over and saw that Aziraphale was stirring as well from the storm. Eyelashes brushed against his skin, his mouth opening slightly as he turned his head against the pillow, disgruntled at the disturbance. Crowley felt a warmth spread through him at the sight. 

_I’m getting soft. _

But it was okay. Crowley didn’t have an arbitrary bar set above his head anymore, and the only one who had any expectations for him was laying next to him in bed. 

Crowley shuffled forward as much as he could, allowing knees to bump knees, and settled in close. 

“Go back to sleep, it’s just a storm.”

Aziraphale nodded against his pillow, disturbing his hair, and settled back in. 

Crowley, smiling, allowed the peaceful scene to lull him back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thank you for reading!  
This is part of the series "Ineffable Husbands Week". Day #2 prompt is: Rain/Storm/Downpour  
The photo is by Gian Cescon on Unsplash
> 
> I just wanted a little musings thing during the early morning hours. I'm sure most if not all people have experienced the weird feeling you get between 3-5 a.m.
> 
> Anyway, again, thank you for reading!


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